


A place to rest my soul

by Blackwidowislyfe



Series: They say the first day is always the hardest [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Going Home, M/M, Past Torture, Safety, Triggers, possibly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 05:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4595433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackwidowislyfe/pseuds/Blackwidowislyfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint takes Natasha back to his place, and they have pizza with Phil, and do paperwork. A typical weeknight in the Barton/Coulson household.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A place to rest my soul

Chapter 2

 

"This is YOURS?" Natasha asked incredulously. She had been assigned to Clint until they were sure she wouldn't go completely bat-shit and kill someone by accident. They had even given him bigger quarters. She was sure it was because he was the only person crazy enough to trust her. Her therapist said she did, but then again doctors are paid to say shit like that.

 

"Eh, it's nothing really," Clint shrugged. "I'm rarely here anyways. I'm usually with my..." He fell short.

 

"Your boyfriend?" Natasha chuckled.

 

"My handler," Clint corrected, but the blush in his cheeks gave him away. She had known since he had brought her with him to meet the man they all called Coulson. He seemed nice. He threatened to Taze her and watch Super Nanny while she twitched. She hadn't batted an eye, just sort of stared at him. He was crazy enough to challenge her and trust Clint. He seemed okay. "Anyways," Clint started again, pulling her out of her trance, "He's coming over tonight to fill out some paperwork he says he needs your help with. He said he would cook. Of course, he really doesn't trust me to cook."

 

"And why is that?" Natasha asked curiously.

 

"It's... kind of complicated," Clint answered, scratching the back of his neck. "I kind of set the kitchen on fire last time I tried to cook." Natasha laughed. "Hey! You grow up in a circus, you tend to skip over how not to make everything a flaming dish!"

 

"You, Clint Barton, are a very funny man," Natasha tittered.

 

"Well, glad I could amuse you then," He smirked. "Come on, you must be tired after everything." Natasha nodded. She hadn't been sleeping well since her capture two days ago. She had been having horrific nightmares of her training, various missions with who they called, "The Asset." She hadn't always woke up from those dreams in a pleasant state either. At least she had been able to hide the aftermath and save her pride at least a little. The nurses were a bit more forgiving than she figured Clint would probably be.

 

She had never had anything so nice as this guest room before! Her own queen sized bed, an en suite bathroom with a HOT shower, and a small little desk in the corner. Her therapists had suggested she try journaling, so she figured the desk would be a good place to do so.

 

"...And then we do our laundry on Thursdays, and then we come back and order take out and watch cheesy eighties movies," Clint informed her. "You need anything, I'm just a room away. Just like, knock first, okay?" Natasha nodded, settling her small self on to the bed. He smiled. "sweet dreams."

 

As soon as he was gone, she spread out. She smiled. Maybe things would get better. She yawned. Two nights of tossing and turning took its toll on a body. She carefully crawled under her massively fluffy comforter and closed her eyes.

 

* * * *

 

_"No please! I'll be good this time! I promise!" She had begged._

_  
_ _"No, you're much too sassy to be any sort of good," An unknown man said. "Take her to the black room!" Suddenly two people had her by her arms and legs, dragging her into the blackness. The black room had always been where the recruits who couldn't take it were taken. She had seen many of the girls dragged from their beds in the night. muffled pleas for help echoed in her ears as she was dragged into the black room._

_  
_ _"Stop! STOP!" She screamed, thrashing helplessly. She was strapped down with leather restraints to the chair._

 

* * * *

 

"Tasha wake up!" Clint said, gently shaking her shoulder. She woke with a scream, her hands managing to wrap around themselves around Clint's neck. "Natasha," He choked out. She let him go as she trembled.

 

"I'm sorry," She said in a tiny voice.

 

"Hey, it's okay," Clint said, sitting at the foot of the bed. That was a good move. She didn't trust herself in this state. "I can't tell you how many times I did the same thing to Phil. Well, not the exact same thing. I kind of slept with an arrow or a knife under my pillow. I may have caused him a few nicks." That same habit of rubbing the back of his neck. It must be a thing he did when he was embarrassed, she decided. "Seriously, it's okay. Now, come on. Phil's bringing pizza. The good stuff too, not some stupid chain."

 

"What does a restraint have to do with food?" She asked, her face as blank as ever. Clint laughed, and she couldn't help but smile. She slowly assessed her present state; dry, thank GOD. She nodded, undoing the covers and following him to the living room.

 

* * *

 

They were so enamored with each other. Clint and his boyfriend slash handler. She had listened to Phil go on and on and ON about the forms she was signing, initialing, dating. Most of it was so that no one could arrest her unless she violated company policy, a few disclosures.... she just did what she was told. That's what Clint had said to do. He then proceeded to play footsie with his lover under the table. Natasha had rolled her eyes. They were such children. She finally had found an excuse to retire early, stating a need to try some new techniques they had told her to try in therapy. It wasn't entirely a lie. They did suggest she try and get to bed earlier, take her time, build a routine. She wasn't sure how. But she decided to start with a shower. After a little bit of fiddling, she figured out how to work it. She took her time, letting the warm water wash away her stress and the nightmare from earlier.

 

MEANWHILE....

 

"Clint, you're doing a great job as her handler," Phil said. "I know that this afternoon was hard, but you did good. I wouldn't have done anything different."

 

"I just, I keep worrying I'm gonna fuck her up in one way or another," Clint huffed.

 

"That feeling is normal. At least you two aren't going out on missions," Phil pointed out.

 

"But.... But what if she  _CAN'T_?" He finally asked. "What if she can't handle missions? After everything she's been through, I.... I don't want to push."

 

"If she can't handle missions she can be a paperwork assistant," Phil said simply. "I can ALWAYS use help with paperwork."

 

Clint couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, somehow I don't see that happening," He chuckled, giving Phil a quick peck on the lips. "You're the best, you know?" Suddenly, there was a tiny little "ahem," From the hallway. They looked up to see Natasha in standard issue SHIELD clothing. Clint made a mental note they needed to go shopping.

 

"I'm not sure if it is customary in your culture, but I came to say goodnight," She said, the smallest of smiles on her lips.

 

Clint and Phil both smiled warmly at her. "Goodnight Natasha," They said in unison. She smiled, returning the gesture before returning to her room. She could trust them, she was sure of that. Maybe, in time.... they would be a family? She didn't want to get her hopes up, but going to bed thinking about it... maybe that would keep the worst of the nightmares away.

**Author's Note:**

> Not that anyone probably cares, but the title came from a song from my favorite band. :) I think I'll try and update this series once a week. Everyone cool with that? Good.


End file.
